- At the first Afropunk festival, back in 2005, there were less than 50 people, most of them members of punk bands themselves, all essentially performing for one another. These days, 70,000 people converge on Brooklyn's Commodore Barry Park every year and the punk bookings have mostly been eclipsed by hip-hop, soul and R&B stars. While some will criticise the organisers for selling out, it's still one of the largest and most impactful celebrations of black artistry in the country. As cofounder Matthew Morgan told NPR last year, punk for him isn't about a specific style or sound, but a willingness to be weird. "I look at Sun Ra and Miles Davis and Grace Jones and Bootsy Collins, and they're punk rock to me," he said. "You know, Malcolm X is punk rock to me—redefining that attitude that we've always had. It's punk rock to be black in America."
This year's lineup was as eclectic as ever, ranging from Soul II Soul to Dizzee Rascal, though judging by the turnout at her performance on Saturday, most people came to see Solange. Her headline set was flawless, a tour de force that was both rigorous and refreshingly eccentric. She was backed by a six-piece horn section, plus the rest of her band and dancers, whose lively postmodern moves she choreographed herself. Most striking was the sheer dynamism of the show, the effortless way she moved from celestial harmonies on "Cranes In The Sky" to the saucy funk of "F.U.B.U." She passed through so many different, deeply felt moods over the course of 90 minutes, and she did them all with gusto, while nailing every note.
I was apprehensive on my way to see '90s R&B legends Soul II Soul over on the smaller Gold Stage. I've seen nostalgia acts go horribly wrong at festivals like these—usually they either try way too hard to sound hip, or they simply don't have the chops they used to. Soul II Soul killed it, though, with original singer Caron Wheeler sounding as fresh as ever backed by a live band that included two electric violins and backup singers. A lot of their songs embody the feel-good utopianism that defined dance music in the early '90s, with messages about brotherhood, unity and positive thinking.
Dizzee Rascal's show on Sunday was a curveball. While "Fix Up, Look Sharp" may have had a brief crossover moment in the US, there's always been a disconnect in terms of his ability to break through stateside. The crowd was low-key for a lot of his set, but he didn't show any signs of flagging, and his charisma kept the show afloat despite the audience. Many of the people near the stage were clearly camping out for the rapper and multi-instrumentalist Anderson .Paak, who came on afterwards. Paak's stage presence was electric and he was clearly in great shape, with a funky, sexy energy reminiscent of a young Prince. Thundercat played the same slot on Saturday, and he had the crowd wrapped around his finger, with virtuosic chops on the six-string bass and a backing band that kept it in the pocket.
Afropunk's only problem: there were way too many people in the park on Saturday night. The lines for food and drink were excruciating, and the crowd was impenetrable at times, making it tough to find friends or move between stages. But the mood didn't boil over, thanks to a dynamic that's defined from the top down by the festival's messaging. Flanking the Red Stage, the second largest of four venues, were banners nearly three-stories high that read: "No sexism. No racism. No Ableism. No ageism. No homophobia. No fatphobia. No transphobia. No hatefulness." These messages left no room for ambiguity when it came to the types of behavior permitted in the space. They placed black and queer people at the center of the experience, where at almost every music festival in the world they're at the margins. They made it clear that white folks, like myself, were welcome, but we'd better be respectful because we were guests in somebody else's home.
Photo credit /
Kyle D. Johnson